


Star Child

by sarangx



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-01 03:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15766149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarangx/pseuds/sarangx
Summary: Maybe the stars know more than you’d expect. . .





	Star Child

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first chaptered skz fic! let’s hope it goes well~
> 
> the tags pertain to the fic as a whole, so expect to see them incorporated in future chapters :)

 

> _Boötes - The Herdsman:_
> 
> _The Boötes constellation is associated with the mythical figure, Icarius, the winemaker. Icarius was taught by the god Dionysus how to make wine and when he invited his friends over for dinner, they got so drunk that they thought Icarius had poisoned them and they killed him. Zeus placed him in the sky as the constellation Boötes. . ._

 

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

 

It was a Munchlax Pokémon filled with stuffing. Its head was too big and its feet seemed to be a decision made at the last second. Blue cloth meshed with creme and, save for a few neutral colors, the Munchlax was a simple toy to behold.

To the tiny boy in black, however, it was the most precious gem in the world. He’d read about finding treasure, about seeking rewards, of gaining fame and power, but _this_? The stuffed toy was worth so much more.

“Happy birthday, my Changbinnie,” a woman said kindly. She was grinning at the boy, dimples peeking through her cheeks as she gazed at him with adoration. There was something off, though; an unknown emotion danced in her eyes as she watched the child break out into the biggest smile.

“For me, mama?” he whispered excitedly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the toy, his small hands clutching at the cotton almost delicately.

“Yes, honey. For you.” She gently placed her hand on his head, prompting him to look up at her curiously.

“Mama?”

“You’re five years old now, Changbinnie-ah,” the woman stated softly. She had a wistful smile on her face as she crouched down to the boy’s height. She gently brushed his bangs away from his eyes—startling purple and bright. “My baby, you’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

“Yes!” His eyes squeezed shut from the force of his grin, teeth on full display and showcasing a small gap. He brought the Munchlax close to his chest, hugging it tightly. “Mine now! Gyu!”

The woman didn’t say anything more. She only watched with fond eyes as the boy before her cradled his gift with so much care. She bit her lip and dropped her head after a moment, though, eyelashes fluttering as her eyes began to water. She sighed and choked back a sob while she rose back up again.

 “Take care of Gyu, okay?” she requested in a strained voice. Her eyes suddenly looked more gaunt and hollow. “Don’t ever let go of him, Changbinnie.”

“Mama?” The boy looked at her again. He finally seemed to have sensed the change in atmosphere. “Mama, what’s wrong?” He stepped closer to her, his small hand grasping onto one of Gyu’s arms by his side.

“Remember,” she murmured simply. Tears slowly dripped from her cheeks. “Remember me and be strong, Changbin.”

The boy’s eyes had grown big with worry, the violet irises swirling with concern and confusion. He reached for the woman’s hand, and despite the size difference, she squeezed his dainty fingers tightly.

“Mama, don’t cry.” His lips were pulled down into a frown, baby fat causing his cheeks to puff out even more and for the woman’s heart to hurt tenfold. His own tears started falling, and even though he didn’t know why, he continued to cry. Fat teardrops slipped over his cheeks, one by one, and for each tear, he clutched harder onto Gyu.

“Be strong, Changbin.”

And that was the last the boy would ever see of her.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Vaguely, in the back of his mind, Changbin wondered if he had ever been given the chance to change the direction of his future. If he had, then he must’ve fucked up pretty terribly.

Changbin lived in a three-room apartment on, arguably, the most questionable side of town. He had grown used to the banging and swearing and shouting and moaning and— well, all of the drunken stupor that one would predict. Drunkards were more expected than feared on his side of town, and the sightings of crackheads were fairly common, too. He lived where your parents told you never to go.

He lived with his father who could hardly afford the rent. He spent any money he had left on either cheap soju or some obscure club, leaving none for Changbin and barely any for the apartment cost.

That left Changbin to fend for himself. He was a high school senior who had somehow landed a job at a petite hipster cafe that didn’t fit his dark image at all. He never talked to his co-workers except for mild greetings and farewells; the customers, if he saw them, would only be subjected to polite half-smiles and quick bows of appreciation. As one of the baristas, though, he didn’t see the customers much, anyway. His hands were well-acquainted with the blender, and he had grown used to the smell of coffee beans and the sound of mixing as ice was crushed. Occasionally, he’d have to brave through the heat of cooking powdered coffee beans, but that was only when he had the morning shift.

His life really wasn’t all that interesting. He’d wake up after getting two hours of sleep—if any—and would head off to school and doze through his classes. After that, he’d either go to the cafe or wander around Yongin, depending on the day. When the sun would just kiss the horizon, he’d return to the dilapidated apartment complex with the stench of alcohol and decisions gone bad. Quietly, quietly, he’d watch the sun slip away and the moon rise. He’d count the constellations, calculate their stories—Monoceros, Canis Major, Orion, Cassiopeia- or was it Cepheus?—and if he talked to the stars, no one had to know. If he pushed in chairs at the cafe without touching them, and if a locker that belonged to someone he didn’t like happened to slam shut, well, no one could prove otherwise.

Maybe Changbin ogled at the stars too much. They were simply made of dust and gas, swirling so brightly that they twinkled from galaxies away. Distance hindered their communication, of course—occasional blinks not enough to suffice. But he could swear that if he listened hard enough, he could hear the humming of an alien hope, the energy pulsing through his veins and causing his fingers to twitch and tingle. Changbin considered this to be talking to the stars.

Though, perhaps it was more communicating than it was talking; they’d send waves of energy rather than words. It was almost a type of extraterrestrial language, and Changbin was comforted by the fact he wasn’t alone. Even though it wasn’t conventional, he found himself smiling more and he’d nod along to what the stars would whisper to him. They were his friends. No secrets were kept between them, so when Changbin opened his window, the stars were quick to beam excitedly at him.

They murmured about a boy with dark hair and even darker eyes; a boy with a pretty face but strained smile. They said every movement he made was with poise, and that his delicate fingertips drew water from reluctant rain clouds. The boy’s eyelashes glittered with crystal droplets, shining in the light before dripping quietly and falling, falling into a pond of rippling water. He was beautiful, they said, stunning and gorgeous but there was a certain solemnity behind those fuscous eyes that they couldn’t quite understand.

Changbin wasn’t quite sure what to make of the news. He was confused and tried to ask the stars more, but they only shimmered in response and chastised him for staying up so long. His curiosity was yearning but the pull of his eyelids convinced him to relent.

Still, though, before the calm ink of rest could fully ease him into sleep, he wondered about the boy with dripping fingers and attractive face. And even after he was lulled unconscious, rainstorms and oceans filled his dreams.

✱✱✱

 

The insistent buzzing of his phone roused Changbin awake.

He rose slowly from his bed, duvet crumpling around him after he forced himself to sit up. His eyes were still half-closed, lashes fluttering and face puffy as one of his hands searched blindly for his phone, the other rubbing at his eyes. When he felt a cool, smooth surface reach his fingertips, he grunted and blinked rapidly to look at the screen.

 _5:31 AM_ glowed back at him in skinny white font. His battery glared red, a small _9%_ next to the nearly-drained icon. Changbin huffed in exasperation, and grumbled to himself about how he should’ve plugged it in last night.

Still, he fought back more complaints and stood up. The floorboards creaked under his weight, and he almost slipped because of the socks on his feet, but he managed to catch himself in time. He shook his head in disbelief at his own antics before he languidly walked the small distance to his suitcase filled with clothes. He was too lazy to sort them into piles, and he also didn’t want to put his precious money towards something as mundane as a dresser, so he had settled for this.

After shrugging on a graphic tee and an oversized hoodie, Changbin swept his hair lightly as he yawned. He looked around a bit before making a quiet noise of realization when he spotted a pair of acid-washed jeans curled up messily by his bed. He slipped them over his legs and hobbled over to the bathroom outside his bedroom.

When he opened the door to the bathroom, he flicked the light on, too. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror adjacent to the threshold, his violet eyes still glazed over with sleep. He tore at his lip before flicking his gaze over to the countertop. He reached for his contact lenses, mentally preparing himself briefly as he struggled to grasp one clear lens. He thanked the North Star when he only dropped them three times before fitting them under his eyelids.

Changbin looked back at the mirror, his irises now colored a dark brown. They looked real enough, he supposed, but there was a tug in his gut that reminded him of his true discomfort with covering up his eyes. The contact lenses itched relentlessly and the whole concept made him feel fake, but he knew that otherwise, worse consequences would ensue—consequences he couldn’t afford—so he endured it all.

He blinked several times before deeming the lenses firmly encased. Changbin nodded once to himself, picking up a toothbrush to quickly rinse his teeth and finish up his morning routine.

He finally decided his appearance to be presentable after he ruffled his hair with his hand. He nodded at himself in the mirror once and walked back into his room to shrug on a denim jacket with scattered rips, slipping on some black Vans as he went about the quiet apartment.

By then, the sun was peeking through the blinds just slightly. He wished goodbye to the stars and popped a lollipop in his mouth from the kitchen counter, deciding that’d be his breakfast for the day. He didn’t call out a farewell to his asleep, hungover father as he walked out the door with his backpack in hand.

Outside, the air was crisp and clean. Changbin briefly wondered if the air knew where it was—being in the Hakjo-dong neighborhood and all. It was dirty; to have air so pure didn’t fit the space. But he enjoyed it nonetheless.

Changbin flitted from the doorstep to the road adjacent to it, his shoes clicking against the pavement as he walked. He stuck his hands in his pockets and eyed his surroundings to make sure he didn’t get jumped. He had, once—before he knew what he could do. It hadn’t ended well for him; he was left with countless bruises and a dripping broken nose. His nose had never healed right since he couldn’t afford a surgery. He rubbed at his nose as he recalled the memory.

“Hey, kid,” a husky voice rumbled from his left, catching his eye. There sat an old man with curly hair and a scruffy beard, wrinkles placed around his eyes and his mouth. He drew a breath from a cigarette after he spoke, blowing it back out slowly.

“Hello, Mister Yong,” Changbin greeted cautiously. His grip on his backpack tightened as he watched the elder breathe in more smoke. “How are you today, sir? What are you doing out?”

“Same as always,” Mister Yong replied gruffly, sighing long and heavy. “The missus don’t like when I’m smokin’ inside, y’know? Gotta ‘lax out here now.”

 “I see.”

“You goin’ to school, boy?” the old man asked, his glassy eyes turning to analyze Changbin. “Man, I thought you’d graduated already.”

“Not yet, sir,” Changbin said with a small smile. “Almost there, though.”

“Ah, look at you,” the other grinned, leaning back in his tattered chair set up in front of his apartment. His cigarette laid between his fingers. “Your parents oughta be proud of ya.”

Changbin’s smile turned tight, eyes flashing with something indistinguishable. If proud parents meant one that’s missing and one that’s simply existing, then yeah, the elderly man would be right.

“Go along now, kid, don’t be late,” Mister Yong said, inhaling the smoke of his cigarette once more. He blew it towards the sky where it kissed the low clouds.

Changbin dipped his head in respect before he walked away, his eyes set on the ground as he went. His shoes scuffed the cement and he noticed the laces were greyed from wear. He frowned when he realized the last bit.

He hadn’t bought anything for his own enjoyment in a long time. He had been merely surviving since age seven—back when his mother was still with them and his father hadn’t turned to alcohol. Changbin’s mother was—supposedly, anyway—a kind person; she had a gentle smile and bright eyes and from what Changbin could remember, she had infectious laughter. But then she went missing shortly after his fifth birthday and he had never seen her again. His father struggled to take care of them both for a bit, but the cost of bills and expenses led to his downfall and he couldn’t help but to collapse into a deeper depression.

The rest of Changbin’s childhood was spent in their smelly apartment complex. Surprisingly, he hadn’t had a lot of problems with others in the building despite the reputation. There was only one kid, but—

“Yah! Seo!”

The voice caused Changbin to freeze. His eyes went wide and his hands immediately started shaking like leaves, his skin prickling with unease. He kept his face toward the cement and chose not to respond.

“Hey! Are you deaf?” the voice called again, hidden anger lacing its tone.

Changbin reluctantly raised his head. He desperately wanted to keep walking, and to quickly arrive at school; this wasn’t the first time the thought had come to his head, much to his grim realization.

The voice belonged to a boy only a little older than Changbin, the little age difference being the only similarity between the two. His name was Hoyoung and he had known Changbin since he had moved into the apartment complex. No matter how mysterious Changbin’s life was, it seemed every secret would be found out and scrutinized by Hoyoung—most of them, anyway.

 “Seo, I have some news for you!” Hoyoung continued to say despite Changbin’s obvious discomfiting and shuffling. “There’s supposed to be some transfer student at your school!” he informed without being prompted. The two then walked along, all while led by the older. “They’re supposed to come from Seoul! Can you believe that? A Seoulite coming all the way to Yongin!”

“It’s just an hour away,” Changbin mumbled, not really trying to be heard.

“Shut up, you don’t even have any real parents to let you know that,” Hoyoung snarked, curious smile having faded away into a menacing frown. Changbin shut up.

The thing about Hoyoung was that he seemed pretty simple and superficial, but he was actually—by Changbin’s standards—a demon in disguise. He acted carefree and happy, like an optimistic teenager, but his mood swings were like a light switch: immediate. He wasn’t too bright, though, and his words tended to have a sting. He used the information he knew freely, not caring about what’s taboo and what’s supposed to be kept on the down-low. Basically a demon in disguise; a wolf in a stupid sheep’s clothing.

Lee Hoyoung was a force to reckon with and Changbin hated it.

“Anyway, you need to tell me what you find out,” Hoyoung persisted, going on like he didn’t just bring up Changbin’s awful family life. “Tell me what his dialect sounds like, too!”

Changbin had to hold his tongue from mentioning that their dialect was used in most of all Korea, including Yongin. Really, Hoyoung’s brain seemed to be only wired to annoy and oppress.

“Yah, answer me, Seo,” Hoyoung hissed, bumping harshly into Changbin’s shoulder. The younger bit his lip to stifle a groan of pain, as his body was quite frail since he didn’t participate in any sports.

 _That will definitely leave a bruise_ , Changbin thought to himself begrudgingly. He rubbed his shoulder with a quick glance at Hoyoung.

“Yes, fine, I will,” Changbin relented, stuttering over his words slightly in his haste to reply.

“Good!” Hoyoung said with a bright smile, demeanor switching back in a flash. “Tell me their name and everything later! I’m super curious about Seoul. You gotta promise me, dude!”

“I promise,” Changbin huffed, looking at the ground through unhappy eyes. He gnawed at his lips to stifle any impulsive cussing.

“Cool, cool,” the older said with a grin. He either ignored Changbin’s displeasure or just didn’t see it—Changbin wasn’t sure which. “See you tomorrow then, Seo!”

The high school senior dipped his head a bit in a respectful farewell. Changbin didn’t actually have any respect for the guy, but it was their culture and he knew he had to abide by it. Plus, he’d probably get beat up by Hoyoung otherwise.

Hoyoung waved as he walked backward along the winding roads between apartments. Changbin didn’t wave back but he did give a nod signaling his acknowledgment.

Changbin breathed a sigh of relief after he had crossed through the last bit of the apartment complexes; now he was pretty much free from the label of poor. He didn’t flaunt his low income—he’s not sure who would—but rather, he took advantage of the few nice pieces of clothing he did have and he’d try to seem like any other kid in school. It worked pretty well, and nobody knew that he lived on the side of town everyone seemed to talk bad about. The teachers would be wary of him sometimes, though, when he couldn’t get a paper signed. But Changbin handled it well and e managed to dodge every question. He wanted normal people to remain blissfully unaware. It’s better for them, he believed, his heart ever so selfless.

But sometimes he wished _he_ was blissfully unaware. Just because his peers didn’t know about his social class, it didn’t mean they couldn’t criticize and presume from just his appearance.

He had recently spent a good amount of his pay—read: all of his pay—from the cafe on a haircut; the sweet hair stylist had given him a clean-shaven undercut, and allowed some of his hair to fall naturally in dark black tendrils over his forehead. It looked good on him, he had to admit, and the glinting piercings in his ears complemented it well. His skin was pale, though, always flushed just slightly from a sneaky chill no one seemed to feel. His body was thin and limber, too skinny to support any muscle and too scrawny to look appealing. He was short, too, and he had an elongated torso so his legs didn’t look very long anyway. He wore dark colors daily, and it contrasted greatly against both his physique and skin tone. He tried to tell himself it made his brown eyes pop, but really, he knew he was just lying to himself—in more ways than one.

Self-consciously, Changbin dropped his gaze to the ground when he saw the school building drawing nearer. He bit his tongue anxiously while trying to psyche himself up, murmuring encouragements to himself like he did every day. Just another boring day with a hungover father, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and judgmental peers. Ah yes, the life of Seo Changbin.

He quietly slipped through the doors of the school without a word. People stopped chatting at the sight of him and whispered instead, stealing glances that weren’t as subtle as they believed them to be. He ignored them and chose to go to class, his heart feeling heavy already. Even then, after so much aching already, his heart was not prepared for what was waiting for him at home.


End file.
